


Sleepwalker

by MrNowhere



Category: South Park
Genre: Dreams within dreams within dreams, It's basically a more fucked up and gayer version of Inception, M/M, Old work, there's a lot of metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrNowhere/pseuds/MrNowhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you can't wake up from the nightmare, maybe you're not asleep."</p>
<p>Bright green and blue eyes meet as a wicked smile spreads across his lips.</p>
<p>"Yeah, maybe you're right."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepwalker

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written from first-person perspective, and had multiple chapters, so some of the writing may seem a little awkward.

❶

It always starts the same way.

Stan wakes up in a dark room in a bed that isn't his own. He hears someone crying in the distance. Something about the sound is oddly familiar and comforting, so he gets up to find the source of the noise.

He stumbles out of the bed and reaches his hand out blindly, desperately seeking some kind of exit. When his hand finally grasps onto a cool metal object, he feels relieved. He twists it and manages to shove the door open with a little bit of force.

He steps out into the hallway. A long red carpet and dozens of candles line the narrow corridor. There's several pictures of people he doesn't recognize on the walls. The one closest to him is of a boy with a green hat with his arm draped over another boy's shoulder. Both boys' faces are scribbled over with what appears to be black sharpie.

As he continues down the hallway, the pictures get more and more gruesome and graphic. The two boys beating each other to a bloody pulp, clawing at each other's throats, but their faces remain anonymous because of a dark red substance painted over the photographs.

Then finally, the last photo on the left side of the corridor is of a noose, but the entire middle section of the portrait as been ripped to shreds. The only things that he can make out are the rope, and the bottom of one of the boys' shoes. He can't tell which.

At the end of the hallway is a large wooden door. Whenever he sees it he's always filled with dread, but his hand starts to move towards it nonetheless.

He slowly turns the doorknob and carefully pushes the door open.

The crying immediately becomes louder.

The room is completely empty, aside from the boy in the green hat wailing in the centre of the room, head buried in his hands.

Stan takes a step closer, which causes the floorboards to creak underneath his weight.

The boy in the green hat turns around, eyes red, face streaked with tears.

Stan kneels in front of him, "what's wrong?"

The boy in the green hat wipes his face, "I had a bad dream."

The room slowly begins to deteriorate as the boy explains his dream in graphic detail. Stan's ears can't seem to process whatever he's saying for some reason though.

"...then I see them all dying, but right before I wake up, I see your face. "

That's the only line that Stan can ever remember, and he always responds with the same phrase, "if you can't wake up from the nightmare, maybe you're not asleep."

Bright green and blue eyes meet as a wicked smile spreads across his lips.

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

And then he stabs Stan right in the throat.

Everything fades to black before he can register the pain.

The last thing Stan see is the boy in the green hat's smiling face.

Then he always wake up in the same unfamiliar bed.

In the same unfamiliar room.

In the same unfamiliar house.

In the same nightmare.

❷

This time when Stan wakes up, there's a strange feeling in his chest. He waits for the crying to start, but it never does. The strange feeling in his chest slowly begins to grow. Is it uneasiness? Fear? Panic? At the moment, none of that matters. All that matters to him is escaping from this eternal hell.

The absence of crying isn't the only thing that's different though. The lights in the bedroom are on, flickering ever so slightly.

He immediately rushes towards the door and swings it open. Instead of being greeted by the familiar sight of the seemingly endless corridor, he sees a bathroom decorated with nothing but a single sink.

He walks towards the lone object and peers into it.

The inside of the sink is filled with blood, and shards of glass from what he assumes to be a smashed bottle.

He forces himself to look away from the sink, and walk towards the other side of the room, where there's a tall set of wooden double doors.

He pushes them open to reveal what appears to be a large ballroom with a long, wide dining table stretched throughout it. At the end of the table sits a boy. He's too far away to make out any of his features, so he starts walking closer.

Every step he takes forward feels like a stab to the chest. Something tells him that he doesn't want to get any closer.

He stops as soon as he's about halfway down the length of the table. Now that he's a bit closer, he can make out most of the other boy's appearance.

The boy is wearing a bright red jacket that he's practically bursting out of and a light blue hat with a yellow poofball on top. All the seats surrounding him are filled with a variety of stuffed toys; a dragon, a frog, a panda, and a little doll wearing a pretty pink dress.

"Take a seat. We're all having some tea."

Stan warily looks up at the fat boy and his chubby outstretched finger.

He don't accept his invitation, which seems to make the chubby boy quite irate.

"Sit down," he orders.

"I don't want to."

"Oh, Clyde Frog, looks like we've been joined by a very rude guest," the boy laughs.

Stan takes a step back.

"I agree, Eric. How dare he refuse an invitation from someone as cool as you!"

Did that frog just talk? No, that can't be...

Stan looks up and sees the boys mouth twisted into a smile, "what do you think, Polly Prissy Pants?"

The boy talks through the corner of his mouth, putting on his "best" impression of a female, "I think it's ridiculous, what an ungrateful little boy!"

The boy shifts his gaze back towards Stan as the "doll" stops talking.

Something about his intense glare makes Stan's knees turn to jelly and forces him to take a seat beside the stuffed panda.

"Excellent!" The boy exclaims, clapping his hands together excitedly. "Here, have some tea."

He slides a cup across the table, which nearly spills all over Stan. He clutches his hands around it tightly to keep it from toppling over.

Just as he's about to take a sip of the liquid, He realizes that what he's about to drink is definitely not tea.

"Drink the tea," the boy says sweetly. "It's delicious, I made it myself."

Stan stares down at the red liquid floating in his cup. There's no way in hell he's drinking that.

"Drink the tea," the boy practically growls.

"No!" Stan shouts, leaping out of his chair and rushing back towards the door he had come in from.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you!" The boy cackles.

Stan ignores his warning and shoves the doors open.

However, the room that he was positive was empty, aside from the sink, now has another addition.

The boy in the green hat is lying on the floor. His face and the area around his head is covered with blood, and shards of broken glass.

That's when Stan wakes up.

❸

Stan gasps for breath, clutching at his chest desperately, causing him to nearly fall out of the bed.

Was that boy... dead?

He leans over the edge of the hard mattress and vomits.

He dry heaves for a few minutes before finally climbing out of the bed.

He stumbles towards what appears to be a door and shoves it open.

As soon as his eyes adjust to the bright light, he realizes that he's in another bedroom. The walls are covered with band posters and pictures of topless models. There's loud rock music blasting from the radio on a bedside table.

In the corner of the room is a blonde-haired boy who starts laughing hysterically as soon as he sees Stan stumble into the room. "Mom, I'm not high, I swear!" He cackles, collapsing in a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

Stan's face contorts in disgust. He hates dealing with stoners.

"You wanna hit?" The boy smirks, waving a joint around haphazardly.

"I'm fine, thank you," Stan says through clenched teeth.

"You're no fun," he sighs.

After a few moments of silence the boy speaks up again, "I'm just like you."

"I'm not a pot head like you," Stan sneers.

He rolls his slightly red eyes, "that's not what I'm talking about, douchebag."

Stan raises an eyebrow curiously.

"I can't die."

"Pardon?"

"I can't die."

"What?"

"I'm stuck in this place like you. We all are. Don't you find it funny how things keep restarting?" The boy says, eyes drooping slightly.

"Do you know why I'm here- why we're here?" Stan asks, leaning forward excitedly. Maybe he'll finally be able to get some goddamn answers.

"I've already said too much," the boy says. "You've only got a few more stages left. Good luck, and by the way.... look behind you."

He reaches into the pocket of his bright orange parka, pulls out a gun, and presses it against his temple.

"No- wait!" Stan screams, rushing towards him.

The boy smiles briefly at Stan, then pulls the trigger.

His blood spatters all over the wall as he collapses to the ground.

Look behind you.

Stan slowly turns around, following the blonde haired boys' last piece of advice. As soon as he sees what he'd been talking about, he wishes he hadn't.

Sitting pressed against the door like a limp rag doll is the boy in the green hat.

There's blood dripping out of his nose, and the word overdose is painted above his head in dark red letters with a question mark beside it.

❹

This time Stan doesn't wake up in a bed, he doesn't even wake up indoors.

He covers his eyes with his hands, trying to shield them from the sun's bright rays.

"Lu lu lu, I got some apples, lu lu lu- oh hamburgers!"

Stan jolts forward at the sound of that overly cheerful voice. There's a blonde-haired boy wielding a watering can standing a few feet away from him.

"Stan?" The boy gasps.

"Stan, wha-what the heck are you doing here?"

"How do you know my name?" Stan frowns.

The boy laughs awkwardly, "don't you recognize me? It's me, Butters!"

"Butters?"

Butters nods his head eagerly.

Who the fuck even names their kid Butters?

"You need to get out of here," he says. "You need to save Kyle."

"Kyle?" Stan smiles. "The kid in the green hat?"

"Bingo."

"Who told you all of this? How do I know I can trust you?"

Butters rubs his knuckles together nervously, "Kenny told me. He knew that you'd be showing up here for some reason."

"The guy in the parka?" Stan guesses.

"That's the one."

"Thanks, dude."

"No problem, Stan."

They stand in silence for a few minutes before Stan throws his arms up in exasperation, "why the hell am I not waking up?"

Butters suddenly starts coughing uncontrollably, "I've-" cough- "said too much-" cough- "go to the pond, you'll-" he collapses before he can finish his sentence.

Go to the pond? Where's the pond? Stan scans the area thoroughly, searching for any source of water. His eyes finally come across it, lying several feet away from him.

He sprints over to the small pool of water as fast as possible. He stands in front of it, searching for any signs of the boy in the green hat- for Kyle.

The pond is perfectly still, and he definitely doesn't see any dead bodies floating around in it. That's... odd. Did Butters lie to him? Or is this a trap-

Someone tackles him, sending both of them flying into the water.

Stan cracks an eye open warily. Kyle smiles down at him and mouths the words "can't breathe?"

Stan nods my head furiously.

Kyle's smile widens as he wraps his arms around Stan's neck and presses their mouths together.

❺

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T

As soon as Kyle's lips disconnect from Stan's, he wakes up, and smacks his forehead against the brown-haired boy who's looming over him.

The boy clutches his nose and falls off the bed with a loud crash.

"Jesus Christ!" Stan shouts.

Stan swears he's going to have a heart attack if people keep surprising him like this.

The boy leaps back onto his feet and bursts into tears.

"Fuck, dude, are you ok?" Stan asks.

He starts wailing louder.

If Stan doesn't do something soon, he's going to end up drowning in a river of this boy's tears.

Stan brushes the tears away from his eyes, "don't worry, it's ok."

His pathetic attempt at comfort seems to upset the boy even more, "you just broke my fucking nose, of course I'm not ok, douchebag!"

Ouch.

"Uh..."

"Just follow me, asshole," the brunette grumbles. "I have something to show you." He grabs Stan's arm and forcefully drags him out of the room, and down a familiar hallway.

"Dude, where are you taking me?" Stan growls, trying to wriggle himself free from the boy's iron grasp.

"Trust me, I hate this just as much as you do," he sighs. "I'm just doing my job."

"Job?"

"We're here," the boy exclaims, completely ignoring Stan's question. He pushes open a set of double doors, which lead out onto a balcony.

The boy places a finger to his lips and points at a shadowy figure standing on the ledge. Stan squints to try to get a better look at the person's appearance. They seem to be wearing a dark blue jacket and a matching hat.

The figure bends over and picks up an object sitting next to him.

It doesn't take Stan long to realize that what he picked up isn't just any old object, it's a body. The limp, lifeless body of a staticky blonde-haired boy.

"What's going on?" Stan asks the brown-haired boy.

He taps his chin thoughtfully, "I'm only supposed to show, not tell." And with that, he slaps Stan's back and runs back through the double doors.

"Hey- wai-"

The boy in the blue hat turns around to face Stan and sneers, "what are you doing here? I thought I told you and your little gang of misfits to stay the fuck away from me."

He stares at Stan for a few moments with a blank expression, then rolls his eyes and goes back to whatever the task at hand is.

He lifts up the blonde boys' limp corpse and tosses him over the railing.

"Dude, what the fuck!" Stan screeches, rushing over to the ledge.

The boy in the blue hat flips him off as he climbs onto the railing.

"What are you doing?" Stan whispers.

"Teaching you a lesson," he replies simply.

Stan grabs his wrist, "wait."

The boy slowly turns around, "what?"

"Do you have any idea what's going on?"

He raises an eyebrow, "even if I did know anything, I wouldn't tell you."

Stan looks up at him pleadingly.

"Fine, I'll tell you one thing," he sighs. "5% chance of survival."

He wriggles free of Stan's grasp and leaps off the balcony, landing on the cement with a loud splat.

❻

  
5% chance of survival....

What could that possibly mean?

Is Stan going to die?

Is somebody else going to die?

Is he already dead?

Is this his own personal purgatory?

"You know how I said how everybody is trapped here?"

Stan flicks his neck to the side and notices Kenny leaning at the doorway, a solemn expression on his face.

"Yeah?"

"I didn't mean it literally," he says, scratching the side of his head. "I meant it more... metaphorically."

Stan raises an eyebrow, urging him to continue.

"This house isn't really a place," he explains. "It's a state of mind. Fear, panic, worry, grief, everybody feels these emotions at least once in their life."

"So this is all a dream?"

"I guess you could call it that...." He trails off. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that all the people you've seen are here figuratively, not literally."

"Uh... I'm not quite sure that I completely understand...."

He sighs, "I guess I'll just have to break it to you the hard way, come with me."

He loosely grabs Stan's wrist and hauls him out of bed. Kenny drags him down the hallway that he's staggered down so many times.

"Where are you taking me?" Stan asks.

He doesn't reply, just tightens his grip on Stan's wrist.

After a few more moments of the quiet footsteps on the plush carpeting, he speaks up again, "how would you feel if you knew your best friend only had a five percent chance of surviving."

Stan's eyes widen, "excuse me?"

He stops abruptly when they reach the end of the hallway. In front of an extremely familiar door. Kenny turns the doorknob and shoves Stan inside, slamming the door behind him.

It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust to the overwhelming of white in the room. White tiles on the floor, peeling white paint on the walls, and a white curtain surrounding an object in the centre of the room.

He takes a step forward and pulls aside the curtain, revealing a small bed enveloped in white sheet. A hospital bed.

Bundled beneath the mountain of brightly-coloured blankets is a boy. A boy in a green hat. A boy named Kyle.

He cracks an eye open and stares back at Stan, a smile immediately forming. He sits up, groaning a little in the process. He places a shaking hand on Stan's head and ruffles his hair.

"You never visit me anymore."

"I-I'm sorry?" Stan frowns, feeling the urge to apologize due to the disappointed look on his face.

"The doctor says I only have a five percent chance of survival." He flops back down onto the bed. "I should be the one apologizing. I even promised that I wouldn't die until you do."

"Kyle..." Stan whispers.

"Well, it was nice talking to you," he says quickly, smiling weakly. "But I guess it's time to say goodbye."

"Wait, you can't leave me yet- I still need to-"

"Wake up, Stan."

❼

"Stanley!"

"Doctor, he's awake!"

"Hey, Sharon, have you seen my beer?"

"Randy, shut up, your son is finally waking up!"

Stan crack an eye open and take in the scenery around him. Dozens of people are looming over him, people he recognizes from his... dreams? Were those dreams? Is this still a dream?

All of the people grin down at him.

"Give him some space" the doctor says, writing something down on his clipboard lazily.

The group of people reluctantly take a couple steps back.

Stan rubs his eyes, "what's going on? Where am I?"

"You're at the hospital," the doctor replies. "You've been in a coma for a week."

"Wha- how?" Stan sputters.

"Well, your beloved Jew was going to die, and you couldn't live in a world where you couldn't fuck his ass every night, so you drank yourself into a coma" the fat boy in the teal and yellow poofball hat replies, the same kid who Stan recognizes from the whole tea party ordeal.

Beloved Jew...

That's when all of his memories come flooding back to him.

"Where's Kyle?" He practically screams, already preparing to leap out of bed.

The doctor doesn't answer.

Stan pushes his way past the entire group of people and rushes out the door, despite their desperate attempts to stop him.

"Kyle!" Ne calls, as he runs through the narrow hallways. "Dude, where are you?"

A nurse turns the corner and narrows her eyes when she sees Stan screaming like a lunatic, "hey, kid, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Do you know what room Kyle Broflovski is in?" He asks, completely disregarding her previous question.

"He's in room 5" she replies. "Wait. I don't think I was supposed to tell you that..."

"Thank you!" He yells, a grin spreading across his face as he checks the room numbers. He can't believe it, even with only a five percent chance of survival... He takes a deep breath when he finally reaches room #5, then shoves the door open abruptly.

"Holy fuck!" Kyle screeches, raising his arms defensively as Stan bursts into the his room. "Stan?"

Stan dives onto his bed and wraps his arms around around the red-headed boy.

"Ow, dude, you're hurting me" he groans.

"Oh, sorry" Stan says, smiling sheepishly.

"So," Kyle grins. "Stan Marsh actually decided to grace me with his presence. I feel so honoured."

"Shut up, ass bandit."

"Ooh, ass bandit, that's a good one, let me write that down in my book of memorable Stan quotes-"

Stan pinches his friend's cheeks harshly.

"Ugh, dude, stop," he whines as Stan stretches his cheeks. "You're hurting my face, asshole."

"Well you weren't playing nice-"

"Aw, did I hurt your wittle feewings?" Kyle asks childishly.

Stan lightly pushes him over and flops down on the tiny bed, "so..."

"So..." Kyle mimicks.

"Are you gonna be ok?" Stan asks quietly. He glances up at the ceiling as a thick silence settles between the two boys.

After a few minutes, Kyle rolls on top of Stan and smiles, "don't be stupid, of course I'm gonna be ok." He brushes a strand of hair out of Stan's face. "Because I'm not allowed to die until you do."

A tear slips down Stan's cheek as Kyle settles his head next to his friend's chest.

"I was worried for a while though," Kyle whispers. "You were in a coma for seven days."

"It was weird," Stan mumbles. "It was like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. You were there, Cartman was there, Butters was there, and-"

"Wow, Dorothy," Kyle interrupts. "Did you make it to the Emerald City?"

"Are you trying to tell me that I was reliving the Wizard of Oz?"

"Precisely."

"I don't remember there being a boy on boy kiss in that movie..." Stan mutters to himself, but Kyle hears him.

"A what?"

Stan waves his hands frantically, "forget about it!"

A smirk forms on Kyle's lips, "ooh, so you were fantasizing about kissing a dude, gayyyyyy."

"You were the one who initiated it, buttwipe" Stan retorts.

"What? Me?!"

"Yeah, you tackled me underwater and then you... You..." Stan rapidly gestures his hands, trying to explain what happened without getting into explicit detail.

"Like this?"

In a matter of seconds, Kyle presses his lips against Stan's, and removes them just as quickly.

"Who's the gay one now?" Stan grins.

Kyle crosses his arms over his chest as his face turns a deep shade of red.

"Well, maybe we both are-"

Just as their faces are about to meet once again, the nurse from before bursts into the room.

"What are you boys doing?" She shrieks. "Mr. Broflovski is in no condition to be participating in such tomfoolery!"

"But- I-" Stan stutters, trying to come up with an excuse.

She narrows her eyes, "I'm going to go get your parents, I'm sure they'll be intrigued by your little misadventure." She exits the room.

"Thanks a lot, Stan, you got me in trouble!" Kyle huffs.

"You deserve it," Stan grins, but his smile quickly fades when he comes to a quick realization. "Wait, do you really only have a five percent chance of...."

"Well, my kidneys were being really fucked up, but ever since you got admitted to the hospital I've-"

Before he has a chance to finish his sentence, the same group of people from before burst into the room. God, can they not just get a moment of peace?

"Stanley- oh my god" Sharon Marsh groans.

"Please, mom," Stan begs. "Can I just have a moment to talk with Kyle?"

The nurse steps in front of her before she can answer, "first, I need to check and make sure you didn't mess with all the hard work we put into keeping this kid alive."

Stan nods slowly and climbs out of the bed, the nurse performs a bunch of tests, eyes widening, "I don't believe this, just last week he was practically a dead man walking, but now his..." She exhales sharply. "His kidneys have stabilized." She turns around to face Stan. "You're a lucky boy, your little friend went from five to one hundred in a week."

"Does that mean...." Stan glances up at her hopefully.

"He's going to be ok."

The room choruses with cheers.

Stan rushes back over to Kyle and smiles. Kyle smiles back.

"Let's give them some privacy, shall we?" Sharon says, winking at Stan as she herds her husband and all of Stan's friends out of the room. The nurse follows them out, but not before giving Stan a quick thumbs-up. The only person who actually stays behind is Kenny.

"Isn't it convenient how as soon as Stan got admitted, Kyle started gradually getting better. And that Stan woke up the day Kyle was completely healed?" Kenny smirks. "It's like you guys both had a guardian angel."

Kyle and Stan share a quick glance, then shrug.

Kenny's smile widens, "see ya later, dudes."

"Thanks, Kenny," Stan whispers.

Kenny walks out the door, but peeks his head back in before the door can fully close, "hey, guys?"

"Yeah?" They reply simultaneously.

"Keep the gay sex sounds to a minimum, kay?"

Kenny sticks his tongue out and finally closes the door, drowning out their groans of disgust.

Stan flops back down on Kyle's bed, "I think maybe I actually did have a guardian angel."

"I know, Kenny helped guide me through  those never-ending nightmares as well."

"Wait- what- how did you..." Stan trails off.

"I had a bad dream."

Stan completely freezes. He knows exactly where he's heard that phrase before. "If you can't wake up from the dream, maybe you're not asleep."

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

Instead of stabbing Stan like the first time we met in the nightmare, Kyle kisses him.

They both pull away slowly and smile stupidly at each other, saying the same phrase in complete sync;

"If this really is a dream, I hope I never wake up."

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I know a lot of people are probably going to be extremely confused by the ending, so I'm going to try to clarify as much as I can here. 
> 
> The ending can be interpreted in two different ways, the optimistic way, or the pessimistic way. The optimistic way would just be thinking how this is how everything really ends, a happy ending for everybody. However, a lot of you probably noticed that a lot of the things don't really add up, or just seem to hopeful, which is what I like to call, the pessimistic ending. I made certain aspect kind of dreamlike and a little out of place to hint at the fact that this may still be part of the dream. It's up to you how you want to interpret it, there's no right answer.
> 
> Anyways, I hope that clears some some stuff, if you still have any questions, feel free to ask me in the comments below, otherwise, thank you so much for reading!


End file.
